Dearest Mother
by DarkShadowsFalling
Summary: Mordred reflects on his mother, Morgan, after she passes to the Otherworld. The thoughts are not so positive...Warning: Implied abuse


Dearest Mother

*A Story of Camelot. Most of the characters have changed so much over the years and there are so many versions of the same story, so this is, again, just an adaptation. In this, Morgan LeFay is Mordred's mother. In a lot of versions, it's his Aunt Morgause who was the one who committed incest with King Arthur. I like the idea of evil!Morgan being Mordred's mother and that, in truth, he held a deep-seated hatred of her. So this comes out of it. Don't sue. Inspired by the song "Room of Angel" by Akira Yamaoka from Silent Hill*

I stand before your funeral bier, looking down at your white face, your hands clasped so innocently over your chest. My face bears no emotion and inwardly, I scowl at this mockery that we are all committing.

You died only a week ago, and a celebration was held in the great kingdom of Camelot. At last, King Arthur was free of your wicked ways and we were all able to breathe a sigh of relief. I think the only person who rejoiced more than I was the King's gentle Queen, Guenevere. She had long suffered for your trickery, never fully able to trust her husband again.

For the first time, she looked at me with a truly warm expression and pressed her hands into mine. She murmured in my ear, almost conspiratorially, "She is gone at last, Mordred. You are your own man now. You need not fear her any longer, dear son."

Son. The endearment gripped me more than any other term of affection ever had. She had never called me son, even though she had welcomed me into Camelot when my father, Arthur, had sent for me, whipping me out of your clawing clutches. She had been kind then, but it never met her eyes and her smile was always tense.

Now she kissed my cheek and pressed a goblet of wine into my palm before flitting away to her husband's side. It was something I had never expected, never dreamed. With the death of you came the love and life I had thirsted for for a long time.

And now, we all stand in black, while the Priestess reads the Last Words of the Lady before your body is taken to Avalon. With our heads bowed, we look like we are truly mourning, that we miss you and grieve the loss of your presence.

But truly, we keep our heads bowed to keep from looking callous with smiles that threaten to break out over our faces.

I had gone to you when I heard you were dying. I had held your hand while I watched your life slowly drain from you. Your body burned with a terrible fever and you sobbed and cried, murmuring how sorry you were for how you had treated me.

I had told you that all was forgiven, for I had often been told that it does not do to allow a grudge to pass to the grave. I knew the words would calm you and you would die at least partly peaceful. But your tears made me feel cold and empty and in my mind, I cursed the day you or I were ever born. No apology could ever atone for the cruelty I suffered at your hands.

More than once, you nearly killed me with your potions and brews as you attempted to concoct the most lethal of poisons. I was your test subject and if I attempted to back out of it, you used your magic to coerce me. I have been closer to the veil of the Otherworld more often than I would like to admit and it is a cold and dark place.

You would break my bones, scar my flesh, and burn me until I screamed. Sometimes it was in punishment, other times for your own perverse pleasure. No, Mother, no apology will ever suffice, but I will allow you to think your child is more naïve and forgiving than you ever gave him credit for.

When at last you passed from this world to the next, I let go of your limp hand and stepped back. I murmured thanks to the Goddess Mother for taking you from me finally and I turned and left you there, for your less-than-savory friends to find.

The service ends and I alone remain sitting as the rest filter out. Arthur, my father, steps up behind me and lays his hands on my shoulders. They are warm and comforting and I allow a moment for my eyes to close as I take in the fatherly gesture.

"Mordred, you do not need to stay here with her. You no longer have to bother with her," he says, his timbre deep and soothing.

"I know, my Lord…I just cannot seem to leave right at this moment. Go and be with Guenevere. I will follow swiftly," I answer, my own voice a soft combination of his and yours. I know it pains him to hear it, but he simply squeezes my shoulders gently.

"All right, my son. Do not be long. Today I will name you as Prince Regent. It is a day to rejoice, after all."

I turn to him then, my green eyes wide. His blue meet mine behind long, dark lashes. "Prince Regent, my Lord?" My voice is hoarse with surprise.

Arthur smiles, his eyes crinkling wisely and his teeth showing. "Yes, Mordred. Prince Regent. We know that Guenevere will never have children, and you are my son, no matter the circumstance. She and I have discussed it and we think it is best. I know you are a born leader and you are wiser than most men your age. It will be my honor to name you as my heir."

Overcome with emotion, I drop to my knee and take his hand, kissing the back of it with joy. "Thank you, my Lord Father!"

Arthur lays a hand on my head and then leans forward, kissing my forehead. "My son, I am proud of you. I always have been. I want you to remember that I never regretted that Morgan had you. I regretted how it came about, but I never regretted YOU…"

I feel joy spread within me, even as a nasty little voice that sounds oddly like you whispers in the back of my head, "Then why did you try to kill me as a baby?" I ignored it, for I had understood a long time before why that had occurred.

Merlin, the Great One, had warned him that I would kill him when I became older. Arthur held a great respect for Merlin and had believed him quite sincerely. In fear, he had sent for all of the boys born on May Day, as I had been, and had placed us in a ship and set it out to the ocean.

It had sunk and I had been the only child to survive. It had been then that Arthur had realized that he could not escape fate. So when I reached the age of 8, he sent for me, deciding to embrace me rather than fear me.

Now here I was, his son, his heir, and I knew he loved me. I had no doubts about it anymore.

I nod to him and murmur, "And Father, if I should ever have cause to kill you, it will be for a good reason. I have no reason to want to see you dead and I have no reason to hate or despise you. You have welcomed me with open arms and treated me as though I was your legitimate son. There would have to be a good, fair reason for me to try to kill you and I know that you are a man of gentility, a man of kindness, and a man of love. I see you living to a very ripe old age." I smile here and look into his crystalline eyes. I can see a small sign of relief there.

"I only hope you are right, my son. Remember that you have never been the only danger Merlin has foreseen for me. However, it does my heart good to know that you are with me and not against me. I will leave you now to…do as you want in regards to your mother. I despised her, but she was the woman who gave you birth so I will respect that." He squeezes my shoulders once more and leaves me beside you.

I look to you then and give you a slightly malicious smirk. "You see, Mother…? He loves me, which is a far cry more than what you ever felt…"

I lean to you and brush my lips across your forehead. Your flesh is cold to the touch, but I care not. No matter what I had felt for you, I suppose all I could do was look at your beautiful corpse in wonderment.

I had always thought of you as a venerable force, something that could never die. I had never seen you frail or sick in my youth and you always seemed to have power that no man could fathom. And now, you lay lifeless before me. My mind was having trouble understanding how it had happened.

But I am not sad you are gone. Of that, I am quite certain. I long ago lost any love for you that I had and only bore my responsibility as your son in name. That was all. In my mind, I was Arthur and Guenevere's child. They raised me to know what was right and what was wrong. I knew how very wrong you were.


End file.
